


Weather the Storm

by avidbeader



Series: Avidbeader's Sheith Positivity Week 2017 [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Season/Series 03, Sheith Positivity Week 2017, sheithpositivityweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 05:45:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11617164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avidbeader/pseuds/avidbeader
Summary: Written for Sheith Positivity Week 2017. Day 3:Thunderstorm/Summer Rain. I make no promises as to whether I can come up with other entries.





	Weather the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: If you recognize the character, it isn't mine. Just playing in Dreamworks' sandbox.
> 
> Note: I'm on Twitter and Tumblr under the same name. Come say hi!

 

_It could be worse. It could always be worse._

  
  
Keith repeated the thought in his head. Patience yielded focus for a while, but there was nothing to focus on that would improve their situation. He and Shiro were stuck waiting for as long as it took and the only good things about the circumstances were (A) whoever shot them down and fried every single function in the pod didn’t seem to be interested in actually finding them; and (B) the comms in their helmets still worked, more or less. Enough for them to let the Castle know that they were alive and mostly unhurt. Enough to hear Pidge screeching at Coran over the fact that homing devices in the paladin armor or the pods weren’t a thing and now she had to invent them on the fly in order to locate their missing team members on this enormous godforsaken boulder of a planet.

 

Thunder echoed from a distance and raindrops began to spatter on the windscreen of the pod. Large trickles started to pour from crags in the walls rising on either side of the deep chasm where they had crashed.

 

Okay, (C) they were sheltered from the weather.

 

Shiro was napping beside him after taking the first watch, slumped to his left so his head rested on Keith’s shoulder. They’d set their helmets on the control panels and managed to get the upper half of their armor off. Cuirasses, pauldrons, rerebraces, and vambraces were piled in the small space directly behind their seats. Keith had his bayard in his hand, just in case, but the control that vanished the windscreen was as dead as all the others. He could probably cut them free with one of his swords, but for the moment was content to stay dry and wait for rescue, albeit with a bit of irritation.

 

Another roll of thunder reverberated, louder, and Keith felt Shiro flinch in his sleep.

 

<> <> <> <> <>

 

_He hears the drums echoing as he follows the guards down the dim hallway from the armory to the arena. Even after weeks with the deadly prosthetic where his right hand used to be, they still stop and offer him a choice of other weapons._

 

 _Don’t they understand? He doesn’t need weapons anymore. He_ is _a weapon._

 

_The drums increase in volume, announcing the beginning of the fight. As they approach the entrance to the arena, he sees Haggar move from the shadows to intercept him. He fights to hide all emotion as she trails one taloned hand down the Galra arm._

 

_“We have a special challenge for you today, Champion. Should you succeed, you will cement your place as our greatest creation.”_

 

_Shiro doesn’t answer. The drums get louder and now he can hear the roar of the spectators, anticipating the match. He moves to the end of the hallway that opens into the arena and looks across it at today’s opponent. For a change the figure is smaller than he is, a two-armed biped with a lithe frame and a sword in one hand. In the back of his mind he is already analyzing the possibilities, expecting speed to be the issue rather than brute strength._

 

_From a distance, he hears a familiar voice._

 

_“Shiro?”_

 

_The figure steps into the arena and Shiro bites back a cry of denial._

 

 _It’s Keith. He’s expected to fight and kill_ Keith _._

 

_“Shiro! Can you hear me?”_

 

_Shiro takes a step back, only to hear a warning hiss from the witch. She moves to his side and raises one hand, lightning crawling along it as the sound from the drums swells and the voices from the crowd rise. “Either you fight him, truly fight him, with all your strength and cunning, or I kill him now. The choice is yours.”_

 

_Keith is running across the arena floor toward him, dressed in the dark suit and ragged tunic of a Galra slave but with his Marmora blade in one hand. Shiro’s prosthetic starts to move on its own, glowing with energy and reaching out toward the opponent as the drums grow louder. He resists with everything in his power and tries to redirect the weapon toward its creator._

 

_“Shiro!”_

 

_Haggar grabs the prosthetic with the speed of a striking snake and suddenly Shiro can’t move. Blinding white light leaps from Haggar’s other hand, striking Keith in the throat and chest._

 

_Shiro screams as he falls._

 

“Shiro, wake up!”

 

<> <> <> <> <>

 

“Keith!” Shiro’s cry was full of terror and pain and Keith grabbed for his shoulders, trying to hold him still so he wouldn’t injure himself from thrashing. Another streak of lightning illuminated the pod as thunder continued to crash overhead.

 

“I’m here, Shiro! Wake up! You’re dreaming! It’s just a dream!”

 

Shiro’s eyes fluttered open and Keith put one hand to his face. The contact seemed to ground him and he went still.

 

“You with me, Takashi? It was just a dream.”

 

Shiro stared at Keith for several seconds, breathing hard, and then his eyes darted around the cockpit of the pod. Keith rubbed his hand along Shiro’s jawline. “Just a dream. We’re okay.”

 

“Keith…”

 

“Yeah, I’m here. We’re safe for now. Not going anywhere soon, but we’re safe.”

 

Without warning, Shiro hauled him across the space between the seats and into his lap. Keith let out a yelp of surprise, but relaxed as Shiro’s arms encircled him, pulling him close to Shiro’s chest.

 

Shiro buried his face in the crook of Keith’s neck and shoulder, his body shuddering as the adrenaline began to leave. Keith stopped trying to reassure him verbally and ran one hand through the longer hair at Shiro’s crown. He massaged the tense muscles in Shiro’s shoulders where he could reach with his other hand, feeling them jerk at every crash of thunder.

 

Finally, the last of the tension drained from Shiro’s body and his breathing evened out. Keith gave his hair one more stroke and trailed his hand down the stubble of his undercut.

 

“You okay?”

 

Shiro sat up and nodded. “Sorry about that.”

 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

 

Shiro pressed his lips together for a moment, then nodded. Keith considered this a victory—normally Shiro would argue the point in some way for another few rounds.

 

Instead he leaned in and gave Keith a chaste kiss. “Thank you.”

 

This was a second victory. Normally the most Shiro could handle after suffering a nightmare or PTSD episode was being held.

 

Careful not to tip the delicate balance they’d achieved, Keith responded with his own kiss to Shiro’s forehead. “You’re welcome. Always. Whatever I can do to help you weather this storm.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you as always for reading!


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